


Volière

by Dreamwalker44



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, F/M, Forgive my attempt at Russian, Illustrations, Not Canon Compliant, Vanya is Russian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-01-15 10:37:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18497212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamwalker44/pseuds/Dreamwalker44
Summary: The coldness of the world around her was something she was all too familiar with. A place covered in snow, blanketed by the expanse of powdery whiteness. Here, there was eternal winter. There was not a patch of green to be seen, not in this season where everything laid dormant or asleep in the frozen land.It was as if everything was dead to the world.So strangeSo silent.She opens her mouth, catching a snowflake with her tongue.A tiny smile emerges from her lips.Yes…The snow, the cold, she was one with it all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AU In which Vanya grows up knowing she has powers.

 

 

****Y a k u t s k ,** ** ****R** ** **** ****u** ** **** ****s** ** **** ****s** ** ****i**** ** **a** ** **** ****1** ** **** ****9** ** **** ****9** ** **** ****5** **

****

 

The expanse of snow around her was akin to that of a sea made out of pure whiteness. Every which way she went, her surroundings looked the same-- dull and frozen from the wintry climate. And aside from the occasional groove of tall lean trees she passed, everything was washed white from the bleak coldness of the chilling months.

 

October 2nd.

 

Yesterday, she had just turned six.

 

She was given a new dress to wear and a fluffy blue coat to wear over it. They held a party and there was cake and gifts.

 

They were celebrating two things after all.

 

Her birth and her new home.

 

Suddenly, the weight of her boots felt much too heavy for her to lift. She couldn't take another step as she was frozen in place where she stood amongst the snow.

 

She remembered she heard something far off in the distance and decided to follow it. It had been a quiet sound, not much louder than her hushed footsteps on the frozen ground.

 

For a while she kept on trailing it, curiosity taking over her young mind.

 

Until, she found what it was.

 

What it had been doing.

 

And then it all happened in a flash.

 

The girl let out a startled yelp that made the creature stop in its tracks. Out of fear she closed her eyes, hearing nothing but her heart beating louder.

 

_And louder._

 

A dreadful feeling emerged. She felt rather strange in the few seconds that passed, her form visibly shaken.

 

Yet... a feeling of calmness replaces it all.

 

A calmness she knew she shouldn't be feeling then.

 

Once she opened her eyes to the sound of utter silence, she no longer saw the whiteness of the snow around her.

 

But the redness of blood that tainted it.

 

“великолепный”   ** **[“**** ** **Magnificent.**** ** **”]****

 

 Says the voice.

 

She doesn't need to look behind her.

 

She knows it belonged to the man who she would be calling her new guardian from now on.

 

“покажи мне больше”    ** **[**** ** **"Show me more."**** ** **]****

 

She did not know what he was talking about. To her, he always sounded so strange, so clouded. It's a mystery to her why he insisted on enacting the role of her father despite denying such claims, preferring she call him her friend or mentor.

 

But right now, she couldn't be bothered to look away from the sight in front of them. Her eyes were trailing the vibrant color of red, mind lost throughout the scene when a heavy hand fell upon her limp shoulders. The man was close to her now, him kneeling by her side as he neared his mouth to whisper in her ear.

 

“покажи мне больше, Ваня”    ** **[**** ** **"Show me more, Vanya."**** ** **]****

 

The little girl found herself closing her eyes from those words.

 

She really didn't know what he wanted from her.

 

“Ваня,”   ** **[**** ** **"Vanya,"**** ** **]****   he repeated. “сосредоточиться только”    ** **[**** ** **"Just focus."**** ** **]****

 

_'No.'_

 

She couldn't.

 

It was still there, the bodies. One a fox and in its mouth laid the dead hare.

 

 

 

 

* * * *

 

 

A pool of their blood began to stench the air. Sooner or later a different creature would finds its way to it. To them. And the thought of such danger brought her to look back to the man.

 

 “давай вернемся…”   **["Let's go back…"]** she pleads.

 

He gives her a small smile.

 

"Ты знаешь, что должен сделать."    **["You know what you have to do."]**

 

"Нет."   **["No."]** She shakes her head. Once. Twice.  "Пожалуйста"    **["Please."]**    Her lips quiver as her breathing turned rampant.

 

Her heartbeat going faster.

 

_And faster._

 

She closes her eyes, senses the strange feeling taking over again.

 

_'No... no, no, no, no...'_

 

"Не заставляй меня просить снова."    **["Don't make me ask again."]**

 

"Я-Я не понимаю. Что--  **["I-I don't understand. What--**

 

Those hands. They found their way to cup her cheeks. She opens her eyes to look right into the face of the man who was still smiling at her.

 

"Ваня... Мой маленький Ваня"    **["Vanya... my little Vanya."]**   

 

"Тебе не нужно бояться."  **["You don't have to be afraid."]**

 

His face inches closer to hers.

 

Closer and closer.

 

She flinches, surprising the man, more so herself.  "Ваня,"  **["Vanya,"]**  he starts, already trying to approach her yet again. She takes a step back every time.

 

"Вы должны понять. То, что у вас есть, у меня нет. Ни у кого другого нет этого."

**["You must understand. What you have, I do not. Nor does anyone else."]**

 

"Чудо..." ****["A miracle..."]****

 

She keeps shaking her head to his words.

 

He is wrong.

 

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

 

"Не держи это подальше, моя дорогая. Выпустить его. Освободите его!"

**["Don't keep it away, my dear. Release it, set it free!"]**

 

"Нет!"    **["NO!"]**

 

In that instance, the man was sent flying meters away to the cold ground. A loud thud could be heard, silencing the space around them. The girl stays frozen where she stood, eyes wide in shock, her tiny hands clenched into fists at her sides. She shook in fear of her actions.

 

In the aftermath she heard him laugh.

 

It did not stop her shaking nor did it soothe her racing heart.

 

“Вот так, Ваня, орать громче надо”    **[“You have to yell louder, Vanya.”]**

 

He gets up then, snow clinging all over his dark clothing. His face, although brandishing a wide smile, is now littered with cuts that are smeared with fresh blood. The look of a caring man now absent, replaced by something dark. More sinister.

 

"Но это было очень хорошо. я знал, что в тебе есть."

  **["But that was very good. I knew you had it in you."]**

 

With much needed haste, the girl turns.

 

And makes a run for it.

 

Run, run, run.

 

_'No.'_ She thought. Mind racing as she sped through the snowy path. It can't be. She was not the cause of that outburst. It cannot be.

 

She was just ordinary.

 

_'Правильно?' **['Right?']**_

 

The man runs faster, gripping her wrist as she screams in protest. The nearby trees swayed in an abrupt manner, causing a flock of birds to fly away.

 

It only fueled his praise and amazement of her, cooing against her ear as he said words of encouragement.

 

But she still begged him to let go.

 

He doesn't, dragging her through the snow where her cries could be heard in the distance, the bending of trees following their path.

 

That would be the last time she ever thought she was ordinary.

 

 

 

**S e v e n    Y e a r s   L a t e r . . .**

  **N e w   Y o r k** **C i t y**

 

 

It was late into the night when Sir Reginald Hargreeves retired to his office. Today, although not quite eventful as last week's mishap (with a rather insolent child), seemed busy enough that he almost considered going to bed early. But seeing as he wasn't that eager to throw in the towel to end the day, he sat himself stiff on the plush armchair in front of his desk to work.  

 

As he turned on the lamp to light the clatter of papers, envelopes and books stacked haphazardly on the desk, his one bespectacled eye landed on a particular set of folders neatly placed in front of him to read.

 

The insignia on the folders was a dead giveaway to what they were about.

 

Reginald takes no time to read through all of them.

 

 

 

**7 2   H o u  r s    A g o . . .**

* * * *

 

 

 

   

_Name: Pavlova, Vanya_

_Date of birth: October 1, 1989_

_Birthplace: Moscow, Russia_

_Gender: Female_

_Age: 12_

 

_"What is this?" mutters_ _Sir Reginald Hargreeves as he was currently in his office, eyeing the set of papers given to him by his assistant who clearly wasn't comfortable with how irritated he looked with the information handed to him moments ago._

 

_"The file, sir." States Pogo slowly, "It contains the information they are willing to provide about... the girl."_

 

_Reginald takes his time, finally remembering the reason he requested for such a document. Her story was covered in a foreign newspaper he picked up on his travel through Europe not too long ago. A certain segment of it caught his eye._

 

_**"12 Летняя Девочка Убивает Приемного Отца"  
**_

_**["12 Year Old Girl Kills Adoptive Father"]** _

 

_Thinking back, he realized the unlikelihood of such an event to ever happen. Details from the report states that not a hand print could be seen on any of the twenty-three objects stabbed onto the victim's chest. There was no indignation of forced entry, no signs of anyone but the girl and her now dead father. And, most unusual of all, all the furnishings of the house were left at a disarray-- a mess of broken glass and debris._

 

_It was as if a hurricane came to life within the very house._

 

_It was extraordinary news and Reginald Hargreeves wanted to find out more._

 

_Now, as he read through what limited information he received, he just had to know why they were keeping her all locked up in that facility after the incident._

 

_Safe away from prying eyes such as his who could sense the thrill and mystery a mile away._

 

_There was something about that girl they wanted a secret. Something perhaps the general public couldn't know about._

 

_"Ah, yes." He takes a final look into the documents, shuffling through case files and photographs, eyeing a particular picture of the girl with long dark hair._

 

_She stares blankly from the photograph, a look that vaguely concerns him. He'd seen worse._

 

_"Yes..." He adds, nodding to himself. "The seventh."_

 

_Folding a piece of paper he was writing on, Hargreeves, affixing it with his signature, sealed the letter in an envelope. He then gestures for Pogo to take it._

 

_"Send that letter back to them as soon as possible. I want more information regarding the girl."_

 

_"W-will do, sir." Pogo stammers, exiting the room with a bow._

 

 

**N o w . . .**

 

 

 

            

 

_[Ms. Vanya Paplova, committed November 14th, 2001]_

 

_[Subject has been through psychological trauma. Take caution when approaching.]_

 

This was the first line written in the records. Reginald looks to the side where a more recent photo of the girl was attached. She was clad in white clothes, her skin a shade too pale while her hair was a mess from lack of grooming.

 

He reads further into the record, readjusting his monocle to properly see the text.

 

_1.]_

_[Subject is very quiet in her speech and is in-offensive.]_

 

No issue there. To some extent he would rather deal with a quiet one than a loud buffoon. He reads on.

 

_[Her movements are slow and sluggish. She has a marked irregularity in the beatings of the heart. Her pulse is 96, but when the irregularity takes place, it scarcely beats two (2) pulsations in five (5) seconds.]_

 

Easily solved with medication.

 

_[Today, she is in a continual state of terror caused by “a man who is down stairs, and is going to hurt her”._ _It was this hallucination, which causes her to repeatedly hum a certain tune until she falls alseep.]_

 

He dismisses this as paranoia.

 

_[If you ask her what is the matter with her, she cries like a child and begs to be taken away from that man (her imaginary enemy). But most times she is very quiet, and it is with difficulty that you can obtain a word form her.]_

 

In the next page, there was a series of tables.

 

_[There has been twenty-two (22) incidents pertaining to the shattering of glass objects around her room as well as the destruction of other materials within the vicinity.]_

 

_[For the first three months, her light bulbs were in need of changing twice a week.]_

 

_[If she they were not changed sooner before dark, she would let out a scream of terror which, at one point, had caused all the windows in the facility to shatter.]_

 

_[In the cases of injured personnel, there are fourteen (14).]_

 

_[All were considered accidents, except for one.]_

 

_[It involved the serving of oatmeal which the patient did not take kindly in eating.]_

 

On the next page was a photograph that revealed the personnel who was inflicted with much pain upon serving the girl with oatmeal. The photo didn't quite sit well with him as he stared at the bloody mess of the man on the floor.

 

Reginald would take note to watch out for this girl's temper.

 

 

* * * * 

 

 

Finishing all there was to read on the report, Hargreeves took his time to let all the information sink in before he considered his next move. To say the least, the state the child was in, dare he say it, was manageable. He's dealt with far troublesome individuals in the Academy for years so he didn't see how acquiring a new addition to the group to be much too difficult.

 

If anything, it was the thrill of shaping this girl's powers to perfection that caught his eye. To be able to harness her powers under his strict control sounded very pleasing as he thought more about it. Another one to mold, another one to discipline. The perfect instrument.

 

Sure, all the children within the Academy proved loyal under his watch (as loyal as they'd ever be), especially Number One (yet he's still a disappointment). The rest of them had yet to bare their teeth at him just like how that brat did. Good thing he thought of the best solution to fix the matter before it delved into much deeper waters. What a mess _that_ could've been had he not taken the wisest move.

 

With much rarity, Hargreeves found himself smirking at the memory.

 

_'Such a naive boy. . .'_

 

He leans back on his armchair, focusing once again on the matter at hand.

 

Now, as he sat himself restless within the confines of his unkempt office, books and parchment keeping him company, Hargreeves couldn't help but feel like something's amiss in the order of things around here. Since the first six months of the Academy's debut to the world as crime fighting heroes, already, some cracks in his grand plan had showed. Naturally, he'd found a solution for it. He always did. But there was no telling when another one would appear.

 

That got him scheming again. Heck, he traveled all over the world in search for the missing piece. 

 

Yes, he was always a man of adventure-- wanting to test new things, go beyond the limits, reach something no one has ever reached before.

 

Greatness. He wanted greatness.

 

But, as he suddenly remembered, looking through the eyes of that damned brat who dared to question him proved that he wasn't alone in achieving such aspiration.

 

Yes, he'd seen those eyes before, that very look-- confident, arrogant.

 

Selfish.

 

In himself, he saw all this yet he always chooses to ignore it. He would rather hide these truths than to keep them out in the open. Where everybody could see, could judge.

 

No, he'd rather keep these trivial things a secret. Always in the back of his mind-- forever in the dark. He simply doesn't know how to deal with it.

 

So he sought after the perfect distraction-- and it was in the form of getting the Umbrella Academy's newest member.

 

Vanya. A girl born with extraordinary powers. His Number Seven.

 

Yes. There was so much to be done. So, so much.

 

He stands from his table and summons Pogo. 

 

"Ready the Minerva." He says, voice with much confidence and excitement. He hasn't felt this great, so full of adventure, since that day when forty-two infants were born out of the blue. Now, apparently, there were forty-three.

 

"It's time I pay the institute a little visit."

 

 

  **1 0   H o u r s   L a t e r . . .**

* * * *

 

 

She did not question anything. Not when they opened her cell door, or removed the restraints on he ankle. Not even when the ape who was wearing a _freaking_ suit came by to usher her up into the rooftop where a spaceship was waiting for them.

 

No, she gave them nothing. Just the silence which would be her only weapon against all forms of questioning and probing later on. She was used to it by now-- the experiments, tests. And playing the voiceless ragdoll was probably her best chance at surviving this neverending game of prey and predictor.

 

Yes, silence was the only weapon she was willing to use anyway.

 

Outside, as she looked through the ship's window, Dr. Verdammten was conversing with someone. He was an old man-- what with his gray hair (which was now flying messily all over his face due to the wind picking up) and his cane that had a handle made of gold, it was shaped like a dragon's head too. 

 

She sensed trouble about this man but she could never be sure. Regardless, she didn't trust him, not at all. She was still a captive either way.

 

The two men finished talking. They shook hands (although the doctor was looking a little reluctant contrary to the other who seemed to not care).

 

Well, at least she was getting out of here. She focuses on this particular thought as she sees the old man now walking toward the ship.

 

Her heart beat paces.

 

To calm herself, she tuned out all the noise, focusing only on one-- the sound of her breathing. It was something she often found herself doing to block off anything unpleasant. For years she tried to hone this ability as best as she can, for her benefit and more so for others'.

 

Right now she couldn't control the anticipation of what's to come.

 

But she has to.

 

She has to calm down. 

 

Every single time.

 

Give no emotion-- nothing at all. Just silence which would numb everything around her.

 

The man finally enters the cabin. He takes a seat in front of her and introduces himself as 'Sir Reginald Hargreeves' the one who will be in charge of her for now on for he was the man to have bought her off of Verdammten's Institute of Psychosis.

 

He drags on for several minutes about what was to be expected from her now that he is in command but she found herself dosing off as she helplessly succumbs to sleep.

 

For now the beating of her heart has calmed. The view of the clouds outside her window was the last thing she saw before she was greeted by darkness.

 

 

* * * *

 

 

The floor rocks unsteadily as they are thousands of feet above ground. The metal walls around them groan softly as the ship takes a dip through the air once and then a strange silence soon followed as they now fly peacefully closer to their destination.

 

She was awake by then, finding herself in front of the ship's window as they sped above the landscape below like a bird. She saw the view of everything. There were new sights all around.

 

For once, she was grateful to be alive to see this.

 

"I take it you will like it there, my dear." Says the chimp who was called Pogo. It seemed he was giving her a reassuring smile, although it looked quite faint.

 

She pays him little mind as she continues to stare out the window.

 

There was a flock of birds not too far away. She trails them until they disappear into the clouds.

 

To her left and seated in front, was Hargreeves who let out an amused chuckle of sorts. He eyes her then and she meets his gaze.

 

"Far better than when you were freezing to death in Yakutsk or, should I add, being kept prisoner inside that damned facility. I'm surprised you made it this far, Number Seven."

 

Ah, yes. Her new name. How could she forget.

 

He pauses and takes a good look at her. She's wearing nothing but the white scrap of clothing from her previous ~~home~~ cage and her hair is nothing but a tangled mess as well. No, she has nothing to brag about, nothing at all. But regardless of how much she is disgusted of herself, she looks up at him with equal formality, tucking away what little shame she could hide.

 

"No," he says as he stands up, eyes narrowing as he looks away to adjust his monocle. She only continues to stare at his back while Pogo was silently watching the two of them interact.

 

"The Academy will be far different for the likes if you, Number Seven. Soon, you will understand what I mean."

 

He walks away and heads towards the cockpit with Pogo trailing behind, they leave her alone with her thoughts. 

 

"..."

 

She hopes that whatever he meant by that would be a good thing. But given her current analysis of this man, she could never really tell.

 

So sitting there in silence, Vanya helplessly clings to the shard of hope left inside her. It should've been gone long ago but surprisingly, it's there and she clings to it desperately like the naive girl that she is. 

 

Moments later, a voice from the intercom announces that they would be arriving to their destination in less than thirty minutes.

 

Vanya tries her hardest to calm her beating heart.

 

  

 * * * *

 

 

Brown eyes trailed the decorations that were intricately placed and hung on every part of the large and grandiose room. Heads of animals from the wild mounted and stuffed, wooden figures of strange gods, old paintings and photographs, and of course, all the other items and ornaments she has yet to figure out the name of.

 

This was it, her new home.

 

“Miss Vanya,” says a voice which startles her.

 

She turns, only to see the ape who wore human clothes approaching her. Pogo. She had to remember that name.

 

“It is time for you to introduce yourself to the Academy.” He said in that accent of his. Somewhere in her mind she felt a tad bit jealous that an ape was better than her in speaking in English. But she can't really do anything about it now. Looking at the plus side, she had time to develop her own accent to a nice sounding one.

 

“They, along with my master, are waiting in the other room.”

 

Slowly, she nods in confirmation. Pogo then gestures for her to follow him as he led the way to the meeting hall.

 

She gulps, realizing she's not really prepared for any of this. Heck, she doesn't even remember the last time she used her voice to talk to someone. It had probably been ages ago.

 

Her fists clench slightly to her side. She closes her eyes and takes even breaths.

 

She tells herself there's no point in panicking now.

 

Because right now, she has to prove herself.

 

_'Ты можешь это сделать, Ваня.'_

**_['You can do this, Vanya.']_ **

 

Vanya takes one final glance at the room she was in. To her left, there was a huge portrait above the fireplace that caught her eye.

 

Her stare lasted only a few seconds before she was on her way to meet with the rest of the Umbrella Academy.

 

With a fleeting thought, Vanya wondered if she would see the boy from the painting there.

 

 

 

* * * *

 

 

**_To be continued. . ._ **

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>  
> 
> **trigger warning**

 

 

 

**Y a k u t s k ,   R   u   s   s  i  a     1   9   9   9**

 

 

 

_He rushes her inside his room, locking all the doors, shutting all the windows and blinds._

 

_He is angry._

 

_Angry at her._

 

_But decides to not let it show for now so he hides it behind a smile._

 

_"Давайте поиграем в игру. Как это звучит?" **["How about we play a game. How does that sound?]**_

 

_She does not respond, only curls in on herself as fear takes over her._

 

_It's been a week after he made that promise._

 

_So she must've planned it._

 

_But she failed._

 

_So she's scared._

 

_She is shaking-- afraid._

 

_Afraid of him._

 

**_Good._ **

 

_"Думаю, вам понравится эта игра." **["I think you will like this game."]**_

 

_*** * * *** _

 

_They have played for a while now._

 

_She grows weak after each 'round'._

 

_Which disappoints him._

 

_But now, finally, he's close to winning._

 

_"Хорошо, давайте начнем с начала. Как тебя зовут?"_

_**["** _ **_Alright, let's start from the beginning. What is your name?"]_ **

 

_She does not answer, only continues to wipe the tears that refuse to dry up. Her voice is hoarse from her crying and she feels cold. So, so cold. She knows she's about to lose._

 

_He slaps her then, gaining her attention._

 

_"Как тебя зовут?" **["What is your name?]**_

 

_"...А-aнна." **["...A-anna." ]**_

 

_**Good. He's close.** _

 

_"Сколько тебе лет, Анна?" **["How old are you, Anna?"]**_

 

_"Десять." **["Ten."]**_

 

_**That's right.** _

 

_"А кто заботится о тебе?" **["And who takes care of you?"]**_

 

_""...мой дядя." **["...my uncle."]**_

 

_**He smiles.** _

 

_"И это буду я." **["That would be me."]**    He points to himself._

 

_She nods, making his smile widen._

 

_"Да, я твой дядя." **["Yes, I am your uncle."]**   He says happily._

 

_He then picks her up, sitting her on his lap._

 

_"Зови меня своим дядей Леонардом."  
**["Call me your uncle Leonard."]**_

 

_The girl is silent as the man plays with her hair, absentmindedly stroking it before he nears himself to sniff out the faint floral scent._

 

_After a few moments, he nears his mouth to her ear as if to tell her a secret._

 

_"Не позволяй им узнать, кто ты на самом деле."  
**["Don't let them know who you really are."]**_

 

_He says before he kisses her ear._

 

_She doesn't understand, she really doesn't._

 

_But she nods either way, too afraid of what he might do to her if she refuses-- disobeys._

 

_She's placid as_ _she feels his warm breath tickle her neck._

 

_He then grabs her chin, tugging it so they are now face to face._

 

_He looks at her warmly._

 

_Then smiles._

 

_"Позволь мне быть единственным, кто может дорожить тобой."_

**_["Let me be the only one who can treasure you."]_ **

 

_The girl closes her eyes as she lets him kiss her on the head, then on her cheek, her mouth._

 

_She just closes them, never looking back._

 

 

 

**N o w . . . .**

* * * *

 

 

She sees six pairs of eyes that immediately land on her form when she enters through the mahogany doors.

 

One pair belonged to the man of the house-- Reginald Hargreeves, as he eyes her steadily, giving nothing away. A typical look, she supposed.

 

The rest belonged to the children of the academy. She could see five different expressions plastered on five different faces but sadly, none of them belonged to the boy from the portrait.

 

This slightly intrigues her but before any thought that led to wondering who or where the boy could be is expelled when Hargreeves cleared his throat, ridding the tension in the room.

 

"Now," he starts, voice as commandeering as ever. "As you must know, my search for the remaining children born on the same day as all of you still continues. Recently, my search in Europe was quite fruitful." He gestures his cane to the girl. "And as you can see, I have brought her here before you-- the Umbrella Academy's newest member."

 

He takes a few strides, placing himself next to the girl.

 

"And from now on, you will call her Number Seven." He finishes.

 

No applause, no cheer. Not even a greeting is said.

 

They are all silent.

 

Just silently watching her, anticipating her next move as if she were to pounce that very moment.

 

Instead, she mimics her quiet audience, eyeing each face that was lined up for her to see and size up.

 

One was tall and blond.

 

The other one, smaller with dark hair and tanned skin.

 

Next was a girl. Aside from herself, she was the only girl in the group.

 

And the other one was a boy with a strange smile. He had curly hair.

 

The last was the shortest boy. His expression did not say much. If anything, he looked bored.

 

She thinks back to the boy from the portrait. 

 

If he were here, what kind of expression would he give her upon their meeting?

 

The silence stops as Hargreeves taps his cane once and he gains everyone's attention.

 

"All of you are dismissed. Head back to your training. I expect you all to be in top shape before I give out the details for your next assignment."

 

The children oblige, exiting in line as they give one final glance at the girl who was to remain in the room until further instruction.

 

She did not miss the look of curiosity plastered on each face. The display unsettles her though it slightly intrigues her too. She couldn't really make up her mind. She was still clad in the dirty white uniform of the institute, not to mention her hair was at an obvious disarray. If anything, she looked like a joke compared to them, what with their neatly pressed uniforms of indigo and red, polished leather shoes and black knee high socks. She could feel all the anxiety creep up behind her as the last of them shut the doors. But all throughout, she willed herself to stay as expressionless as possible. It was better not to make a fool of herself any more, she had to look her part any way that she can.

 

_"But..."_

 

These children, she thought, would she like them? Would _they_ like her? Now that she thought about it, she would be living with them in this strange ~~home~~ house for an undetermined amount of time. The thought overwhelms her. After all, she's not used to this kind of lifestyle. Living with a bunch of people? What was that like?

 

It was far more simple when it was only her and that man in the house.

 

But those times were over now. She made sure of that.

 

"Number Seven," her attention snaps back to Hargreeves. "I expect you to train as well given that you still lack control over your powers. Of course  _I_ shall be the one overseeing your progress. I have already prepared a set of exercises for you." He says as he shifts his hold on his cane.

 

"But for now," he pauses, assessing her form, "head to your room and rest. Pogo will show you the way."

 

She nods reluctantly and turns to the door.

 

She's almost out of the room when Hargreeves calls out for her again.

 

She turns back to him, brown eyes meeting green.

 

"And I expect you to behave, Number Seven." He reminds her, almost like a warning. "No longer are you a scurrying mouse trapped in that cell of yours."

 

She could only stare back at him in silence.

 

"There will be no need for outbursts." He finishes before he summons Pogo.

 

Number Seven takes one final glance back at the man before the doors close and she finds herself walking alongside Pogo up a flight of stairs.

 

She couldn't help but notice the look he gave her, how his stare looked as if he knows everything there is to know about her.

 

Every little thing, little detail.

 

Every little secret she tries so hard to hide.

 

It was there in his one bespectacled eye-- observing her, judging her.

 

And Number Seven couldn't help but shudder.

 

 

 

 * * * *

 

 

_Kick, punch, knee, twist, disarm, gouge..._

 

They passed sleek marble floors, velvet carpets, stained glass windows, a hallway of Corinthian pillars and now they reached checkered floors.

 

Her room was located a floor above the others', right past two more bedrooms. She takes a few moments to settle inside as Pogo said "You'll find whatever you need in here. There is a bathroom at the end of the hall" and left.

 

So once again, she was alone. 

 

How she missed the feeling.

 

So sitting atop her new bed, Number Seven begins to take in her surroundings.

 

Plain white walls with brickwork decorating one side surrounded her. On the bottom were dark wooden floors, on the far end was the lone window with the magenta curtains that blocked off any sunlight. She had a cheval mirror, a shelf, a closet with so much clothes, a drawer, a clock.

 

Everything was here and it was more than anything she could ever own.

 

_"Still..."_

 

She was trapped      ~~(but at least she had a room of her own).~~

 

It's a cage      ~~(but at least there was a window to look through).~~

 

_"A window..."_

 

_"Yes, a window..."_

 

And beyond it was the city bursting with life.

 

She wondered if she would get to hear the birds singing or if she would hear the busy streets till night. So many things were out that window and she could finally see it all, hear it all.

 

~~(and maybe she won't feel that lonely anymore...)~~

 

She feels ecstatic, in a way, that it frightens her. It finally settles in her mind that she was no longer in that cell of hers rotting away. She was in a house-- a new one, a big one with her own little room, a place that was hers.

 

But what was she supposed to do with all of these? These stuff? This room? Even the people she would live with?

 

_"Live..."_

 

Oh, yes.

 

The answer came rather simply-- _live_. She was to live with it, with _them._

 

The thought still manages to scare her, though.

 

What if it doesn't turn out the way she wants it to? What if it all goes wrong in the end?

 

What if she did it again?

 

What if she breaks?

 

**_"there will be no more outbursts..."_ **

 

Yes, but what did he mean?

 

_"Did he know?"_

 

_"Of course they would tell him..."_

 

_"So he knows..."_

 

_"He knows, he knows, he knows...."_

 

But why take her in if he knew who she was?

 

And what she did?

 

It doesn't make sense.

 

With so much thoughts and worries racing, Number Seven finally manages to lay down on her full sized bed. And it felt... quite good. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so comfortable lying like this in an actual bed. The ceiling above was as plain as the walls in her room but it was enough for her to stare at. She takes even breaths, listening to her heartbeat as she calms herself down.

 

Everything at this point was all very new. New faces, new places. She's surprised to see all of them like this.

 

Back then, she was always afraid to meet anyone new. She was afraid of what they might do to her-- what they might do after they found out...

 

She's afraid, she still is...

 

_"But..."_

 

With something like  _this_ happening to her now, she can't help but wonder if getting to experience such a thing was meant to be cherished.

 

To be remembered.

 

All this time, she had wanted to forget every meeting, every encounter with a stranger.

 

It had driven her insane at one point.

 

**_"there will be no more outbursts..."_ **

 

Yes, she'd agree to that. There will be no more outbursts. She would suppress everything, every threat. She needed to have control.

 

Number Seven closes her eyes as she felt a wave of resolve within her.

 

Yes, she'd try her best to be good this time-- to be better.

 

Now, of all times, she must not lose what has been given to her.

 

~~Even if it meant that she would come to hate it someday...~~

 

 

 

 

~~~~

* * * *

 

 

 

 

"So, she's one of us now?" Says the boy with dark hair who was currently trowing a set of knives at a target.

 

"You heard what dad said," the blond boy answers, settling down the weights he was carrying. "She's part of the Academy now. There's nothing we can do about it."

 

"I didn't say I was against it." He continues to strike the target with a precise blow. "I'm just sorta surprised dad would be able to find someone like us again."

 

"Well, Diego does has a point." Says the girl standing beside the blond. She was fixing her dark curls to a ponytail. "It's been more than a decade since that day." She adds. "Where do you think he found her?"

 

"Uh, the dump?"

 

All eyes were on the boy that said that.

 

"What?" he asks, not acknowledging his fault. "Have you guys  _seen_ her? She's a _mess_ and maybe not just physically!"

 

"Shut up, Klaus. You don't know that."

 

The boy, Klaus, raises both hands in mock surrender.

 

"Fine," he admits with a smiling face. "But I'm not touching her."

 

"You're being ridiculous." Says another boy who closed his book. "She doesn't even look all that bad. Besides, dad said he was searching in Europe so maybe she's from Germany, or England, maybe even Russia."

 

"Fine, whatever. But fact is," Klaus cuts in. "She's Five's replacement, isn't she?"

 

The children are silent as they let the question sink in.

 

"No." The other boy answers back, the one holding an Anton Chekhov book. "It's only been a week since his mission assignment."

 

"He'll turn up."

 

Nothing is said after that and the children stop their bickering as the doors to the training room open, revealing their father along with their newest member who trailed from behind.

 

She was clad in the Academy's green track suit, her dark brown hair in a ponytail as well. She looked cleaned up and refreshed, far better than the state she was in three hours ago.

 

All eyes, except Hargreeves' was on her yet still she gave off that reserved look and blank stare.

 

"Children," he starts. "Head along to the study hall. My time with Number Seven requires my full attention." His attention shifts to the boy with curly hair. " And I will _not_ tolerate any distractions."

 

The boy gives him an innocent enough look but his stare was cold and unbelieving.

 

"Do you understand?"

 

_"Yes, sir."_ They answered in unison before lining up to exit once more.

 

Regardless of the order, each one could only spare a subtle glance towards the girl who stood silently beside their father.

 

They all saw the look of indifference plastered on her face but none of them had noticed the fear behind that mask.

 

But it didn't matter (not really).

 

Because the girl didn't want them to, anyway.

 

So they left.

 

And her training begins.

 

 

 * * * *

 

 

_Brown leaves, orange leaves, red leaves. She saw so many of them, just there in the background as she trailed through the woods. There were some still on the branches, some whisked away by the wind, and some on the ground littering the woods._

 

_So it was fall._

 

_And it was almost her birthday._

 

_Which means another year for him to celebrate._

 

_Because it got closer to the time..._

 

**_The promise._ **

 

_How she dreaded that time._

 

_**His promise.**  
_

 

_It was almost **her** time._

 

_"No... **not yet**.... " she whispers, closing her eyes as she felt the strange tingle within her body._

 

_And the trees around her bend, making way for a swirl of fallen leaves to spin around her like a whirlwind._

 

_Brown, orange, red. Around and around they went._

 

_For some reason the movement calms her. She made no move to stop it, just letting them revolve around her in a dance._

 

_And then maybe... she thought..._

 

_Maybe if she tried, she would be swept away by them and be far, far away from this place._

 

_From that house and that man._

 

_"Ваня," **["Vanya,"]**_ _she hears him call out to her._

 

_He's close by._

 

_It's too late._

 

_The leaves all fall down to the ground._

 

_She turns toward the voice._

 

_"Идти сюда."_ _**["Come here."]** he says with that smile of his and she does._

 

_She knew better than to refuse-- disobey._

 

_So she walks to him and he_ _holds up his hand for her to take, his big hand covering her little one._

 

_"У меня есть кое-что для вас, чтобы попробовать."_

_**["I have something for you to try."]**  
_

 

And they disappear into the woods.

 

 

 

 

 * * * *

 

 

_Crack!_

 

She flinches as she hears the noise of it shattering.

 

Loud and unpleasant. She does not like the sound.

 

_Crack!_

 

No. It's the wrong one, a mistake.

 

"Focus, Number Seven."

 

She _was_ focusing. But her breathing... She just needed to concentrate more. Her eyes were set straight to the next one.

 

"Learn to control it." He says.

 

_Crack!_  

 

She grits her teeth as she hears it again.

 

No, she wasn't aiming at that one.

 

"You must visualize your target, Number Seven. Focus on it's form, it's location. Anticipate and aim."

 

She can't 'anticipate'  her targets with him shouting out orders like that.

 

_Crack!_

 

Wrong one again.

 

"Precision is crucial."

 

She knows. He's been saying that over and over.

 

It's getting rather.... annoying.

 

_Crack!_

 

Her one eye twitches.

 

_CRACK!_

 

_"No..."_

 

Bad move.

 

All the bottles shatter. She grits her teeth harder.

 

How she hates that sound.

 

Hargreeves could only sigh.

 

"In battle," he starts "One wrong move could mark the end for you. That is why you must aim, Number Seven. Direct your powers towards the target with equal precision. Concentrate on sight more than sound."

 

He replaces all ten bottles onto the table and walks back beside her.

 

"Remember that and start again."

 

She sharply turns to him.

 

"I can't." She says, hands tightly clenched to her sides.

 

**_"Sight more than sound...."_ **

 

"Then what _can_ you do, Number Seven?" He retorts back. "Nothing? Not even a bit of control?"

 

_**"Sight.... sound..."** _

 

"It doesn't work that way."

 

_**"Sound....."** _

 

"It is the _only_ way as far as the records show."

 

_**"Sound... "** _

 

 

She gives him a look that, for a moment, catches him off guard. But she quickly turns away from him to walk towards the table, the sound of her shoes on broken glass filling the room.

 

_**"Sound."** _

 

She inspects each bottle that's been lined up across the tabletop.

 

One by one.

 

She had to break them one by one.

 

"They were wrong." She finally says before she lifts up her hand.

 

And begins to sing a tune.

 

* * * *

 

 

A song, a tune.

 

Yes, she remembers.

 

This was the way.

 

_Her way._

 

She hums quietly but it was loud enough for her to pick out what she wanted to break.

 

One by one.

 

The bottles had to shatter one by one.

 

She walks her way across the table as she hums the little tune, the sound of glass cracking and breaking following the rhythm of her voice.

 

She would focus on the sounds she was making rather than the unpleasant ones her targets made.

 

_Crack, crack, crack..._

 

The tenth bottle breaks and she'd finished her task.

 

A soft smile spreads from her lips but then quickly disappears as she turned to face the man who kept watch all this time.

 

She remembered...

 

A song, a tune...

 

Music.

 

She remembered music.

 

She eyes the man that stood a few feet away. His grip on his cane tightens but he soon found his way to go near to her without a word.

 

They are face to face now, brown eyes meeting dark green. Around them were the shining remnants of glass.

 

After a moment, the girl breaks eye contact, turning away from him and towards the table of shattered debris once more.

 

She remembers...

 

But they were painful memories...

 

She picks up one piece of broken glass and places it on her palm.

 

The tiny piece reverberates and turns to dust. 

 

"I focus by sound." She finally says, voice quiet, barely a whisper.

 

But her look, Hargreeves could tell even from behind, was far away.

 

Distant and empty.

 

He knew this look. He knew it well.

 

In his mind, he wonders if he could change it.

 

Make it better, fitting.

 

Thoughts race through his mind like lightning.

 

And then he remembers.

 

_**"That boy...."** _

 

No.

 

He's done it before and it failed.

 

_**"That stupid boy..."** _

 

He won't make the same mistake twice.

 

"Come with me, Number Seven."

 

He turns to exit and the girl all but follows from behind.

 

 

 

* * * *

 

 

_Out here, the trees did not grow. There were no leaves or bushes, just dark wood-- the d_ _ead wood._ _Regardless, the trunks that remained all stood tall like the black bars of a cage._

 

_And she, along with the man, were in it._

 

_Dangerous... it felt dangerous being here..._

 

_He's taken her hunting a few times now so she thinks she can handle her way back if she focused on the right path. But still, it was difficult with him not saying a word for a while now. It was strange since he was always the one who would fill the silence with words of encouragement and playful jeers._

 

_But today was different. He was quiet._

 

_She did not like it when he was quiet._

 

_She calms her beating heart._

 

_Знает ли он?   [Did he know?]_

 

_"Мы почти там."_ **_["Almost_ _there."]_ ** _He says._

 

_Знает ли он?   [Did he know?]_

 

_The path... she tries to remember the path. She had to, just in case._

 

_Он знает...   [He knows...]_

 

 

* * * *

 

 

Her training lasted a few hours after noon and in a few minutes they would be having supper. Hargreeves had dismissed her not too long ago and now she finds herself wondering the halls of the Academy all by herself.

 

Until she spots a figure trailing her from behind and she stops her pace.

 

"Hey." He says.

 

It was the boy with golden hair. He was standing behind a pillar when he approached her, the rest of the Academy following suit. The five of them were now gathered in front of her, each giving off their own unique expression as they looked at her up and down.

 

"How was first day of training?" Asks the other boy, the one with curly hair. He give a curious smile. "Did dad put you through hell or something?" 

 

She blinks up at the question. Hell? No, it wasn't anything like that. "It was hard." She admits, tugging a piece of hair behind her ear. "But I was able to execute my training to his satisfaction..."

 

The answer seemed to surprise them. But only a little.

 

"We should probably introduce ourselves to you." One of them says, it was the other girl. She goes in front of her with a bright smile and lifts up a hand for her to shake. "I'm Allison by the way."

 

She gives a small smile in return, unsure by the gesture. "Nice to meet you." She finally manages to answer. 

 

The rest followed suit with the introductions, with Luther being next to introduce himself and having a firm grip on her hand, followed by Diego who stuttered his name and blushed, then Klaus who was reluctant to give out a handshake but smiled at her toothily nonetheless, and then Ben who just simply peered at her with a tight smile and said his name.

 

A few moments pass and it seemed like they were waiting for her to say something.

 

She blinks twice. She didn't know what to say next, not really.

 

"It's great to finally meet all of you. I hope we will get along." She finally says in that strange accent she developed.

 

"So," The girl-- Allison starts. "Number Seven, what do we call you?" She asks, the question going off with a curious smile. The rest of the boys anticipated her answer as well, all of them peering at her expectantly.

 

"You must've had a name before, right?"

 

And she blinks. She blinks a couple more times again, turning her head away. "Oh..." She responds, going silent again as she toyed with the strands of her hair.

 

Name.

 

Her name.

 

They wanted to know her name.

 

Seven. Number Seven. Vanya. Vanya Pavlova.

 

Anna...

 

_Ваня...._

 

**_Vanya..._ **

 

**_"Ваня... Мой маленький Ваня" **["Vanya... my little Vanya."]**   _ **

**_"Тебе не нужно бояться." **["You don't have to be afraid."]**_ **

 

**_"Ваня...."_ **

 

**_**"Vanya..."** _ **

 

Her name.

 

Her real name.

 

No.

 

They didn't have to know...

 

They didn't...

 

"Seven." She answers with a tight smile. "Just call me Number Seven." And she ducks away, making her escape, not waiting for their response.

 

They were all silent anyway, each of them giving the other their own confused looks. But they didn't pay much mind after that. They got their answer and they'll settle with it.

 

So she was Seven. Number Seven. The Umbrella Academy's newest edition-- the girl whose smiles were broken and whose powers far surpassed theirs in strength.

 

They should know, they ditched studying to take a peek, just a small peek, into the training room with broken glass.

 

And they knew her well enough now.

 

She was like them but far worse.

 

Because she was broken.

 

Tainted.

 

Tainted by the world.

 

Impure.

 

And with that, a bell rings and it was time for dinner.

 

 

 

* * * * 

 

 

 

_The path._

 

_It led to a cave._

 

_But its entrance was blocked._

 

_Blocked by so many rocks stacked up against each other._

 

_"Я хочу, чтобы ты открыл это, Ваня." **["I want you to open it, Vanya."]**_

 

_She gives him a disbelieving look. She shakes her head._

 

_"Я сделал это только для вас." **["I did this just for you."]**_

 

_She's silent as she continues to look at the towering pile before them. But the man, he is unhappy with her response._

 

_"Нет? Ты снова ослушаешься меня?" **["N** **o? You will disobey me again?"]**_

 

_She shakes her head again. No, she couldn't. But she couldn't do what he asked._

 

_что мне делать?  [What will I do?]_

 

_Her eyes start to water._

 

_"Открой, Ваня." **["Open it, Vanya."]**_

 

_Tears. They begin to form at the corners of her eye._

 

_"Я не могу" **["I-I can't."]**_

 

_"Сделай это для меня. Будьте добры! Я хочу, чтобы ты это сделал. Я знаю, что можешь."_

**_["Do it for me. Please? I want you to do it. I know you can."]_ **

 

_She starts to cry. Tears. There are so many tears. She shakes her head. She can't do it._

 

_"Ваня. Мой маленький Ваня. Разве ты не знаешь, что внутри тебя ждет маленький сюрприз?"_

**_["Vanya. My little Vanya. Don't you know I have a little surprise waiting for you inside?"]_ **

 

_Her breathing is erratic but she controls the strange feeling that wants to come out of her._

 

_"Ты же не хочешь, чтобы тебя наказывали? Только не снова, верно?"_

**_["You don't want to be punished, right? Not again, right?"]_ **

 

_"Нет." **["No."]**    she breathes out. "Я не хочу ..."  **["**_ **_I don't want... it."]_ **

_"Тогда ты знаешь, что нужно делать." **["Then you know what to do."]**_

 

_She gathers herself after that warning._

 

_She doesn't want it._

 

_She doesn't._

 

_She readjusts her footing on the ground and focuses on the pile of rocks in front of her._

 

_She closes her eyes and begins to take even breaths._

 

_A sound._

 

_She concentrates on one sound-- the sound of her breathing, the sound of her heart._

 

_She must do it. She has to do it._

 

_And she does._

 

_All the rocks are lifted from the entrance, they scatter away with much force that some turn to dust and explode._

 

_But the cave, it was open._

 

_And beyond it was the darkness within._

 

_She takes a step back but the man catches her, grabbing her wrist._

 

_"Великолепно, поистине великолепно." **["Magnificent, truly magnificent."]**  he whispers against her ear._

 

_He turns her in front of him, that same smile plastered on his face._

 

_It's a sinister look._

 

_A wanting look._

 

_"Тогда," **["Now,"]** he starts. "Давай зайдем внутрь."    **["Let's get inside."]**_

 

_But she is afraid. She doesn't try to hide it this time._

 

_"Ваня... Ваня. Что случилось?"_

**_["Vanya... vanya. What's wrong?"]_ **

 

_She begs him, begs him with her eyes,_

 

_More tears fall down her cheeks, the man tries to wipe them with a brush of his cold fingers._

 

_She shakes her head, closing her eyes. She was still controling that awful feeling inside of her._

 

_"Что случилось?" **["What's wrong?"]**_

 

_""Y-ваше p-обещание" **["Y-your p-promise."]**   she croaks._

 

_"Я знаю, я знаю свое обещание." **["I know, I know my promise."]**_

 

_She continues to shake her head._

 

_"На этот раз все будет по-другому, я ничего не буду делать." **["It will be different this time, I won't do anything." ]** He says. _

 

_" **Вы** будете."  **["You will."]**_

 

_**No... no, no, no, no....** _

 

_She's angry. Shaking her head vigorously._

 

_"Нет..." **["No..."]**   she says as she feels his grip on her wrists tightening.  "Нет..."  **["No....."]**_

 

_The man drags her inside the cave, inside the darkness, inside where there is no escape._

 

_The walls around them groan, and she could feel the puddles of water vibrate._

 

_"Нет, мы будем раздавлены." **["No use trying, we'll be crushed."]**_

 

_She lets out a scream of terror, loud enough to cause some pebbles to fall on them._

 

_The man just takes grips her harder, taking her deeper inside, deeper where there lies a secret room, a locked room._

 

_It was a new cage._

 

_The cage where she will learn her lesson._

 

_She was being punished, she thinks._

 

_Он знает...   [He knows...]_

 

_Her second punishment..._

**_Он знает...   [He knows...]_ **

 

_But it was a reward, he says, a reward for being able to open up their new house he adds, shoving her inside with him and locking the door._

 

_And she begs him, begs him with her eyes._

 

_"Ты обещал..." **["You promised..."]**   she says, desperate and fearful.  "Ты обещал"    **["You promised."]**_

_"Шшш, все хорошо, все хорошо. Поверь мне, Ваня, тебе это понравится. Я хочу, чтобы ты кое-что попробовал. Я ничего не сделаю, обещаю."_

**_["Shh... it's okay, it's okay. Trust me Vanya you will love this. There's something I really want you to try. I won't do anything, I promise."]_ **

 

_Yes, he had promised._

 

_And she had believed him._

 

_But now..._

 

_Now he no longer played by the rules._

 

_This was his justification for her disobedience on that day._

 

_That day where she tried to escape._

 

_"Tell me" the man says, as he sat himself on a wooden chair. He eyes her harshly where she sat on the floor in front of him._

 

_Как тебя зовут?" **["What is your name?]**_

 

_The game._

 

_She must play his game._

 

_"Анна." **["Anna..."]**_

 

 

_"А кто заботится о тебе?" **["And who takes care of you?"]**_

 

_""M-mой дядя..." **["M-my uncle..."]**_

 

_He considers her answer. "Отлично." **["Very good."]**   He says, beckoning for her to come closer but she doesn't, just continues to stare at him with those pleading eyes._

 

_So he forces her up, pulling her hair so she was looking up at him, kneeling on the ground._

 

_"Очень хорошо, Ваня" **["Very good, Vanya."]**_

 

_He says slowly, loosening his belt._

 

_Opening his zipper._

 

_"Мой милый Ваня..." **["My sweet Vanya..."]**_

 

_He cups her cheek._

 

_"Ваня..." **["Vanya..."]**_

 

_He traces her mouth with his fingers._

 

_"Ваня..." **["Vanya..."]**_

 

_Tears. There were tears down her eye._

 

_"Просто позволь мне дорожить тобой, Ваня."_

**_["Just let me treasure you, Vanya."]_ **

 

_She closes her eyes, trying to block out his hands that push her to him._

 

_She just closes her eyes, trying to forget the touch-- the sounds._

 

_Yes..._

 

_She needed to forget._

 

 

 

* * * *

 

_**To be continued. . .** _

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>  [This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=19bBGxf5k6k) is the tune I wanted Vanya to be humming if you're wondering.
> 
> Also, I'm sorry for the lack of Five in this chapter. He'll be appearing.... soon(ish).

**Author's Note:**

> \- For those of you readers that speak Russian, please excuse the grammar. (I just used Yandex to translate the dialogue).
> 
> \- Also, my apologies regarding Hargreeves' characterization. He's a bit different here than in the series.


End file.
